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“Don’t do this.” Jaxon settles both knees into the dirt, reaching one hand toward me. His kind eyes meet mine, and I want to scream. Yell at him. I want to hate him.
But I can’t. And he knows it.
“I am not a bad person,” I say. A sob wells in my throat and I look away from him, chest aching. “I’m not a bad person, and I didn’t do anything wrong.” The throbbing pain in my arm is enough to make me wince, gasping, as my body moves to the side. Jaxon notices this, his eyes landing on the now blood-soaked jacket.
“I know,” he says. “I know you’re not a bad person, Joey, and I know you’re innocent. You are also severely injured.”
“I’m innocent, Mr. Jaxon!”
“I know.”
“Then why can’t anyone help me?” I lower my head, resting the cold steel of the butt of the gun against my cheek. Inside the house, Julie is walking across the living room again, still on the phone, still oblivious to anything and everything going on outside in the front yard of her rental house. Whoever she’s been talking to is someone she loves, it must be, because she’s still smiling, a smile I used to love so much. A smile exactly like mine. Now, when I look at her and I see that smile, I want to kill her. I want to make her feel the pain I’ve felt the last few months, rotting away in a prison cell as my backstabbing sister lives her rich life, happy and carefree, her husband dead, her only living-family locked away.
“I can help you,” Jaxon says. “I can help you, Joe, but believe me … you don’t want to do this.”
“You don’t even know me.” I look down at the gun again, rubbing my thumb over the cold metal. The weapon feels so powerful in my hand, but at the same time it feels like nothing more than a tool. How can something so small possibly kill a full-grown woman?
“Joey, you wanna know why I’ve always taken to you?” Jaxon asks. He’s still looking at me, waiting for me to return his gaze. I know if I do, however, he’ll talk me down, and I’ll let him. He’ll make me give the gun up; give my freedom up. I can’t do that, even though in some ways I already have. Now, it’s all or nothing. “You remind me of someone,” Jaxon continues when I don’t answer. “You remind me of my own little sister, Joey. Her name was Amelia, and she died when she was just a bit younger than you.”
The words pierce my heart, shattering it even more, but I still force myself to look away, to ignore him.
“She was killed in a shooting,” he continues, his voice softening with each word. “Some thug got released from prison on a technicality and shot up a neighborhood street the following night. She was walking home from the library and was caught in the crossfire.”
I close my eyes, trying my best to keep the image of an innocent young woman being slayed in the street out of the forefront of my mind.
“She laid there for fifteen minutes while she died, alone,” Jaxon says. “Nobody had any idea until she was found by a passerby, and five minutes after that she was gone.”
“I’m sorry.” The words slip from between my lips before I can stop them. My heart, still thudding painfully against my chest, feels as though shards of ice are splintering, expanding, slowly killing me. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Mr. Jaxon, but I’m not that thug, the one who slayed your sister in cold blood. I’m innocent, an innocent person who doesn’t deserve to live her life in prison.”
“I know you’re not a thug,” Jaxon says quietly. “And I know you’re innocent.” He pauses, taking a breath. “But if you do this now, you will never be an innocent person again. Do you understand that? You will be a cold-blooded murder, and I know that’s not what you are.”
“And what if I am?”
“You’re not,” he says, shaking his head. “And while you may be angry at Julie, furious, maybe, she is your sister. She’s your blood. And you can punish her without killing her. You can do this the right way.”
“I’m done, Mr. Jaxon.” I close my eyes and take a breath, trembling. “I can’t spend my life in prison for something I didn’t do. So, what’s the difference if I do this now?”
“We can help you,” Jaxon says. “We can prove your innocence, Joey, but you must be willing to try.”
Somewhere in the distance, the wail of a police siren splits through the night. My eyes meet Jaxon’s, and he slowly shakes his head.
“They’ll be here soon. It’s up to you to decide how you want them to find you.”
He creeps forward, one arm still out, eyes on my face. Then, with a gentle hand, he reaches toward me, for the gun. I start to pull away, then stop. Jaxon’s fingers fold over the barrel of the pistol, clutching it, and he gently pulls. My fingers give way; my entire body gives way, and I release the gun, bowing my head, tears streaming down my face, streaking the dirt on my skin. I’m sobbing now as Jaxon puts the gun away and continues toward me. Then, without speaking a single word, he wraps his arms around me and holds tight, secure, protective. I close my eyes, sinking into him, and begin to sob.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m numb.Numb and shut down and hardly present. People keep talking, but I don’t have the energy to answer them. I feel like I’m in another world for a while. People are talking at me, at each other, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes open and pretend to hear them. I feel sedated, but I know I’m not, and the pain in my arm comes at me tenfold as the doctor treats me again, rewrapping it. I’m handcuffed to the hospital bed, and both Mia and Jaxon are stationed outside. I stay like this, only mildly present, for the next two days.
I don’t care. I’ve found it difficult to care about anything ever since the officers arrested me in front of my sister’s rental house and took me back to the hospital. I didn’t cry, though I wanted to. Julie is still alive, unscathed, but guilty, and I’m still going back to prison, guiltier than I had been before.
I feel grateful for Jaxon, confident in him. He’s the only one outside of Ashgate’s walls that I really trust, but I have to keep reminding myself that I did the right thing in surrendering, even if it means it will be a tougher road to prove my innocence now.
On the third day, the physician releases me from bed rest, and I’m escorted by Mia, Jaxon, and three police officers back to Ashgate. They aren’t taking any chances now, apparently; not that I can blame them. My escape hadn’t been particularly clever or well thought out, and I imagine it’s been reflecting badly on Warden Flynn.
Lace is already crying by the time Jaxon leads me through the front gates to the check-in area. Her, Camilla, and Sabine meet me there, along with Warden Flynn, whose eyes don’t waver from mine as Lace throws her arms around me. She’s shaking, her tear-stained face red and swollen as she clutches me.
“I can’t believe you!” she wails. “I can’t believe what you did.”
